


Two Shadows Went

by constellationqueen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Alpha Sebastian, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Army Doctor John, BAMF John, BAMF Sebastian, Breaking Gender Roles, Gender Roles, Heat Suppressents, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mood Swings, Omega John, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sebastian, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, or more accurately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationqueen/pseuds/constellationqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(tags to be added as they become relevant, though there are already a lot of tags there that aren't relevant now. I'm just holding out for spoilers)</p><p>When suppressants are suddenly recalled by the all-Alpha government, John Watson's life as he knows it threatens to completely crumble beneath him. The only thing he has to hold on to is the Army, which has only just accepted him. Sebastian Moran is an impatient man who has his Alpha (mostly) under control. John finds himself tucked under Sebastian's possessive wing after a chance encounter during basic training. Can Sebastian help John control his Omega? Can John handle the pressure of being an Omega among Alpha soldiers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, this is literally just... I don't even know what this is. I noticed that there was an astounding lack of Johnbastian omegaverse fanfic, and I decided to take it upon myself to fix that. Honestly guys, Johnbastian is life. And omegaverse just makes it that much better.
> 
> Anyway, apologies in advance for how broken up this chapter is. I didn't want to write too much of John by himself, so it may feel a little... disjointed. It'll smooth out eventually, I promise.
> 
> Not beta read or Brit picked.

“I need a refill on my prescription, please.”

Suppressants were a pain in the bloody arse to get. So many hoops to jump through, continuous check-ups at the doctor’s, blood tests, vitamin supplements, and more blood tests. They were almost as difficult to get as birth control. Almost.

“I’m sorry, sir, there seems to be a problem getting your medication.”

John looked up from where he had been gazing at a few select magazines on display below the counter. A small frown bloomed on his face. “Complication?” He hadn’t missed his last check-up, had he? He swore he had been there just last week, Tuesday at half three, as always. “Is it something on my end? Can I fix it today?” He had two doses left at home. Two more days. He needed the refill by then or… well, he didn’t want to think about that.

“Let me go get my supervisor. She can help you.” Betas. Always willing to please. They needed to obey. _Iuvare_ – literally _to help, aid, or assist_ – as John’s Latin professor affectionately called them, if it was possible to use an infinitive as a descriptor. Even John could boss them around. Not as much as an Alpha, but the point still stood.

John stood off to the side, a bit awkwardly. This was the pharmacy on campus, after all. There were other students milling about. Mostly Betas, but a few Omegas in line behind him, most likely here for either suppressants or birth control. His nostrils flared at the scent of an Alpha, but his body did not otherwise react. Soon, the scent was gone.

A woman approached him, Beta, late fifties judging by her hair and her wrinkles. She had a kind smile, but it was too apologetic for John’s taste. “I’m so sorry, Mr Watson. We can’t fill this here. There has been a recall on suppressants, as of this morning.”

This morning. Recall.

“What do you mean?” John’s voice was steady, not showing the panic he was feeling in the pit of his gut.

“The government rescinded the law that made suppressants legal. You can’t get them anywhere. They’ve all been recalled. I’m so sorry, Mr Watson.” Her voice was sympathetic, and John knew that she actually was really, very sorry. But there was nothing she could do, nothing John could do.

“No, it’s… fine. It’s fine. Not your fault.” He smiled, placating. If he had been off suppressants he may have lashed at her, violent, angry. It was one of the reasons that he took suppressants. He didn’t like the mood swings. “Thank you for talking to me. I’m glad I heard from you and not the announcement.” There would be an announcement; it was just typical that the powerful Alphas that ran the world wouldn’t announce it until later in the day.

He sighed heavily, pocketing his prescription information and his wallet. He had another class in about an hour, so he decided to head over there, sit around and wait. Give him some time to stew in his thoughts.

Fuck. No more suppressants. Two more days. _Fuck._ Could he space it out more? Take half the dose he was supposed to and make it last four days? No. No, that was dangerous. His dose was made specifically for him. That was why there were so many tests. Each dose gave a specific amount to its specific Omega, allowing the blockage of the mood swings and the barring of heats, while still letting them retain their scenting abilities. The idea was that it would allow Omegas to be their own person throughout their university years, but still be able to acquire a mate once they were ready to settle down. At that point, they would be able to get off of the suppressants, start having heats again, and bear pups as they were always meant to.

Obviously, that was no longer the plan.

John had been taking suppressants since he presented at twelve. That was a normal age for Omegas. Between eleven and thirteen. John was the average. Betas never presented. Alphas started presenting between eighteen and twenty-one. The university grounds were filled with Alphas fighting each other, roughing it up, participating in sports and dominating the field.

John, always an exception when it came to his second gender, was one of the star rugby players. Most Omegas stayed away from sports, seeing as they didn’t want to come off as too tough, didn’t want to scare away a potential mate. John had joined for just that purpose. He didn’t want a bloody mate. He wanted a life. He wanted to be a doctor. An army doctor – he’d filled out the paperwork to join already. Unfortunately, joining rugby had not kept the Alphas away. It had, instead bore the opposite affect; it had drawn them in. He was harassed in the locker rooms, courted, flirted at. They liked a strong, tough Omega. One who could handle their rough touches and hard-handedness while mating.

John bared his teeth and raised his hackles at the lot of them, but that only spurred them on. A challenge. Damned if John was just going to drop his head and be submissive to them. No, they were children, immature. Even if he was looking for a mate, it wouldn’t be in one of them.

He didn’t know what would happen in those locker rooms now that he couldn’t be on suppressants anymore. _Fuck_.

Outside, the scent of Alpha hung light on the breeze. The courtyard was packed with them, standing in circles to hide the rows that were happening. They were snarling at each other over lunches, books, and any and every Omega that walked by. Christ, they were terrifying. On the other hand, however, there was a group of older Alphas – bachelors hung out in groups, needing pack dynamics – and they were collected, cool, and when they met John’s eyes in approval, he flushed. He didn’t drop his eyes, though. That would signal submission, willingness to court. He wasn’t willing.

In two days, he may not have a choice of will.

He’d been on suppressants for too long. He didn’t remember what it was like to have to control his Omega, though he remembered that he and the Omega were practically separate beings. One was human; one was beast. They could coexist, but certain things tipped the scales. Usually, Alphas were the scale-tippers. The Omega would react submissively before John would be able to stop it.

He was going to cherish these last two days.

Inside, the smell of Beta was dominant. Betas were soldiers, doctors, or police officers more often than the other genders. However, due to a large parent generation and too many people in their generations, younger Alphas were starting to take on these roles. John was one of only a small handful of Omegas daring enough to make a place for himself in this working class. Would he even be interested in going through with his plans once he was off of his suppressants?

 _Of course you will, idiot. You don’t have to bend to their will_.

No, he didn’t, but the Omega would want to.

He didn’t know what his heat schedule was. Did his show up every two months or every three? Did they last the full thirty-six hours or were they less? Would the first one be worse since he had been suppressing them for so long?

Before he could panic, he put a reminder in his phone to call his doctor and set up an appointment. _Soon._

“Are you alright?”

John jumped, spinning around to find the voice. Alpha, the scent told him, washing over him, relaxing. Pheromones. Alphas could project them to calm their mates. Or, really, any distressed Omega.

A pair of Alphas across the room started walking over, but John bared his teeth at them, and they moved away.

“I’m fine,” he replied, not unkindly. He looked up at the Alpha and didn’t recognise him.

“You’re not. You’re anxious.” Dark brows furrowed in concern. Was this courting? It didn’t feel like courting, but John always believed that he could never be too careful.

“Of course I’m anxious. I’m a medical student.” He was still calm. His Omega would probably be snapping. Fuck, he needed to stop thinking about that. It would happen soon enough; he didn’t need to rush it.

The Alpha looked him over. John returned the gesture. He was only just taller than John, not as built. Posh, but not overly so. He had a soft look about him. Like most Alphas, he probably came from money. Tan skin, dark hair. He was gorgeous, really. But there was no attraction on John’s end.

“I appreciate the concern.” He smiled, held the Alpha’s gaze. The Alpha returned the gesture. Maybe in another life. Maybe not, since John could probably snap that Alpha in half.

In his medical theory class, they deviated from the planned schedule to show the broadcast about the suppressants being cancelled. The professor made them discuss the affect this would have on society in general and then to focus on how it would affect Omegas as a sub-group. John was the only Omega in the class. He didn’t say a thing.

The Alpha from the corridor caught his eye, though.

John couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

* * *

There were two items in the mail waiting for him at home. His mother had pointed to them on the table, and then resumed her cooking. She didn’t mention anything about the recall of suppressants, though they didn’t have a television, so she probably hadn’t heard the news. It wasn’t as if it would affect her, though. She was over the age of pup bearing, and could have no more heats.

The first item was a pamphlet, a long one, talking about coming off suppressants. John glanced at his mother’s back. She had to know, then, had to have figured it out from this. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk about it. Harry would be coming off of them, too, but she got her refill two days ago. She would be alright for another month.

He made a mental note to delete the reminder on his phone to call the doctor.

The second item was an envelope, expensive stock, thick. A seal was stamped into the corner. The British Army.

John sat down, carefully tearing open the envelope, keeping his hands from shaking. He knew that they were going to decline him. They had to decline him. He wasn’t taking suppressants anymore, there was no way that they would even consider letting him in. They would be stupid to let him in when his heats or mood swings could interrupt missions or cost people their lives.

He read the letter. Read it again.

“Shite.”

His mother finally turned around. “John? Everything okay?”

He looked up at her, holding out the letter. “I got in,” he said slowly, making the words sound real to him. He got in. Despite the rest of the shit going on in his life, he got in. “I leave for basic training in three weeks.”

He knew that his mother didn’t want him to go, but still she pulled John to his feet and embraced him, her tears wet on his neck. _Oh, Mum…_ He would miss her. He would come home to her.

* * *

_‘The first three days after your last dose of Branotirum™ will continue as if you are still taking a daily dose, as it takes that long for the drug to leave your system. After that, you may experience headaches, nausea, and vomiting for a period of twenty-four hours.’_

Great, yeah, that was just what John wanted. Feeling like shit for getting off of a drug he didn’t want to be off of in the first place. He skipped ahead to a more helpful part of the pamphlet.

_‘Readjusting to life as an Omega:_

  1. _Mood Swings – You will experience them in full force. Getting a handle on them may take weeks or even months, but eventually you will be able to find a balance and be able to know when a mood swing is about to happen, and therefore be able to stop it.’_
  2. _Heats – You will know when a heat is coming. Days prior, you will be more irritable. You will feel feverish. Your mood swings may worsen. When this happens, if you do not wish to mate, find an area where you can be alone and undisturbed. Wait out your heat there. Make sure that you have enough water to get you through._
  3. _Social Order – You may notice yourself being more submissive towards Alphas, and more violent towards Betas. This is natural, the proper order of things. No one will think any less of you for your behaviours._
  4. _Birth Control – If you are not ready for pups but do not want to spend your heats alone, birth control is the best option. There is a website at the bottom of this pamphlet that will let you know if you qualify for a discount.’_



The list went on in an ever decreasing order of importance, telling John things like _‘find other Omegas to befriend’_ or to _‘know several Betas’_ and most importantly to _‘not be alone through this time of difficulty’_. He snarled and balled up the pamphlet, then quickly smoothed it out again and pulled out his laptop. They weren’t taking birth control away because of overpopulation, and if John couldn’t get rid of his heats, he would take away the possibility of getting pregnant. He refused to have pups. He wanted a life. His hand rested a moment over his stomach, but he quickly shook his head and focused on his laptop.

As it turned out, he did, in fact, qualify for a discount now that he was officially accepted into the Army. He wasn’t the first Omega soldier, but he would be the first in the Royal Army Medical Corps. That was his goal, and he wouldn’t accept anything less.

He printed out the page that said he was certified for a discount, and then made another reminder to call in to his doctor, this time to talk about getting on a very different pill.

* * *

The pamphlet had been right. John took his last pill Thursday morning. Sunday morning he was still feeling like his normal self. By Monday, he couldn’t get out of bed. He was cold as ice one moment and then burning hot the next. He didn’t vomit, though he came close a couple of times. He was nauseous constantly. Stomach pains assaulted him every moment, ranging from small pinpricks all the way up to a twisting so horrible that he thought he was dying.

His mother stayed with him the whole day, mopping up his sweat, covering and uncovering him with blankets as his temperature fluctuated.

There was no break from the misery for a full twenty-four hours, as promised.

Tuesday morning came and dragged on, and John stayed in bed. He was exhausted from yesterday, but otherwise he felt… normal.

He was bloody starving is what he was. It was past ten when he rolled out of bed and pulled on some clothes. He brushed his teeth, his mouth tasting of bile despite his resistance to vomiting the day before. At first, he didn’t look in the mirror. He didn’t want to see if he had changed. Surely, he would look different after something as life changing as dropping his suppressants, going through the agony of the previous day. He looked. The same boy stared back at him, blue eyes bright, blond hair a mess from bed. He had circles under his eyes, darker than they normally were, but other than that, he was the same.

It felt wrong to look so unchanged.

Downstairs, he found his mother in the kitchen, working at some eggs and toast and beans. His stomach rumbled. “Smells good,” he said, hugging her from behind before he reached into a cabinet for a glass. Milk sounded like heaven at the moment.

“Feeling better, then?” She dished up three plates and set them out on the table. It was unusual for an Omega to raise her children alone, but John’s father was long gone. He’d been locked away when John was young. “Harry! Breakfast!”

Harry was in uni too, a year behind John. She didn’t have classes until noon, and was always around for breakfast. John usually left at half seven to be able to make his first class.

“Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better,” John responded just as Harry came in, her brown hair straightened, clothes perfect. She wasn’t looking for a career; she was looking for a mate.

“Mornin’ Johnny,” she greeted with a smile, reaching out to snatch a bit of scrambled egg from his plate.

The Omega had a hold on Harry’s wrist before John knew what was going on, and a snarl rose to his bared teeth. Harry looked frightened, and the Omega was glad. No one stole from it. That was its food, John’s food.

“John.” A calm voice. Not Harry’s – she had wide eyes and her mouth wasn’t moving.

 _Submit to me._ Not an Alpha, but the Omega demanded respect.

“John.” A hand on his cheek, soft, gentle. “Let your sister go. She’s not going to take from you, I promise. Come on, John, everything’s alright.”

Nothing was alright, not when food could be taken from him. He needed to eat, to support his metabolism, his pups, to consume calories to burn so that he could get through a heat without dying.

There was a pressure on the back of his neck, a spike of pain, and John relaxed, released Harry, ducked his head down. Submissive.

_Submissive?_

John blinked, twisted away from the touch on his neck. He was panting, eyes wide, looking for an Alpha. _Bite_ , was his first thought. Alphas bit their Omegas to make them submit, to mark them. But it was just his mother, hand hanging where John had ripped away from it.

John was slow to comprehend, but eventually he understood that the pain had been from her nails, not from an Alpha’s incisors. He took a deep breath, let it out, and turned to where Harry was still staring at him, though the fear in her eyes was gone. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Harry.”

She smiled, and John could sense the sincerity behind the gesture. “It’s alright, Johnny. I should have known better. I’ve been doing some research and that was something it mentioned. I… I’m just so used to teasing you.”

Research? Fucking hell, John needed to get on that. They didn’t exactly teach classes on this stuff, which John thought was incredibly stupid.

He walked up to Harry and wrapped her in a hug, scenting her neck, pleased when he recognised Omega, family. He nuzzled, and it didn’t bother him that she didn’t nuzzle back. She didn’t know, yet. She wasn’t reacting, still too human. “Thank you for not being mad.”

Harry held him tighter for a moment before she pulled away. “I can’t be mad at my brother when he’s leaving me in a few weeks.” Now her smile was sad, and it touched her eyes and her scent and John didn’t like it, but there was nothing that he could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/criticism/kudos are always appreciated ^_^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so it's a day early but *shrugs*
> 
> It's also still pretty cut-up, but hey! Sebastian gets introduced! That's always a plus, right?
> 
> As is going to become a "usual" thing, this is not beta read or Brit picked, so any mistakes are my own.

_“I can’t be mad at my brother when he’s leaving me in a few weeks.”_

Those few weeks went by far too fast, with tests and homework and online quizzes due at midnight and cramming for more tests and fighting down his bloody Omega instincts. He could stare down the young Alphas without a problem. They were stupid, violent, didn’t have a single ounce of _provider_ in their body. Even the Omega was repulsed by them, and bared its teeth when John walked by. But the older Alphas that lingered in the corner of the courtyard or attended his classes were a different story. He had a sudden desire to flirt, to court, to flash a smile and drop his gaze in submission when he met their eyes.

_No._  He would not. The first time he had refused, the Omega rattled in his chest, demanding to be let out, and John had stumbled. An Alpha had come up to him, reaching out a hand. John tore away, snarling.

People started avoiding him. He didn’t know if it was just him, or if they were avoiding other Omegas as well. To John, it was a welcome relief. He could study, eat in peace, do well on his exams. To the Omega, it was agony, worrying if something was wrong with John, if he was broken, horrible, not submissive enough.

John hated it. Even the Omega would fight being dominated. He had done his research now and he knew that Omegas fought tooth and nail during their heats. An Alpha that could not force them into submission was not a good enough Alpha. They needed to be strong, capable of protection. They could not protect pups if the Omega could fight them and win.

John knew that his problem, if he ever did end up getting a mate, would be finding an Alpha that could subdue him. Years of rugby had hardened him, toned muscle. The Omega would know how to use every inch of that to its advantage.

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat on a train, being shipped off to start basic training. He hated thinking of himself in two parts: John and the Omega. John _was_ the Omega, but the Omega wasn’t John, at least not in his mind. John couldn’t accept that part of himself. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He didn’t _want_ to mate or court or go into heat. But he didn’t really have a choice. At some point, he would go into heat, and if he didn’t lock himself away properly, then the strongest Alpha near him would most likely end up mating with him. When he went into heat, John wouldn’t have much of a choice at what happened.

Well, he _did_ , but the warnings about how painful heats could be when spent alone were making him change his mind about wanting to lock himself away all alone. But that was a problem for a later date.

\----------

It was obvious that the Sergeant had not been prepared for an Omega to be among the troops he was supposed to be training. But, Beta that he was, he didn’t question it. “I’m not going to go easy on you,” he warned John the first day, once everyone had dressed in their fatigues and were standing at attention.

“I don’t want you to, sir,” John had responded, meeting his eyes. He would be the best. He would show all of them what an Omega could do.

The Sergeant did, however, make some arrangements for the sleeping quarters, putting John in a building with a bunch of Betas, separate from the Alphas. John pretended to be unaware that it had been done on purpose, but he knew, and he was grateful for that small favour, at least.

John wasn’t the youngest. There were Alphas here no older than eighteen, and the amount of times their fights had to be broken up was shameful. But they were Alphas, and it was allowed. If John had tried to fight anyone, he would have had his arse shipped back home. He was on a trial run, he knew. Most Omegas weren’t cut out for the Army, and honestly the Army would rather keep it that way. Less to worry about and deal with. No mess, no stress.

He quickly found out that basic training was just a lot of exercise. Running – building up to eight kilometres. Obstacle courses – learning how to work as a team. Wake up calls that came at two in the morning and demanded a race to a flagpole all the way across the facilities and back. John was, as it turned out, not the best soldier, but he worked the hardest, showed the most improvement. The Sergeant seemed proud of him, and John was glad for that.

The Betas accepted him without hesitation as soon as they realised that he wasn’t soft. He made friends in two of them and got on easy with the rest. The Alphas were a little more work. He knew why they didn’t like him there. Their natures were telling them that it was not right; they were supposed to be the protectors, the providers, and an Omega working at pace with them – and in some cases showing them up – was just _wrong_ on a fundamental, biological level. John was not in his place. It was no good if an Omega could defend itself, because it rendered the Alphas useless.

Fourteen weeks they had to stay here, and everything was going fine until the end of week seven, when the Major showed up.

“Sergeant!” He was an Alpha, voice booming. John knew that if their gazes met, he would submit instantly, without hesitation, without question.

And, Christ, that pissed him off.

“Yes, sir?”

The Major pointed at the two barracks. “Why are they sleeping separately?” Never mind that there were well over one hundred troops currently in training. Though, John knew, each building could easily hold that many.

The Sergeant said something in a hushed voice to the Major, and John saw the Alpha’s eyes scanning the line, looking for the Omega that was putting a wrench in his training camp.

John didn’t meet the Major’s gaze. No one did.

“That’s unacceptable. Put them all together at once. The _Omega_ ,” he spat the word, and it was evident to John right there what that man’s opinion of him was without even having a conversation, “is going to have to get used to sleeping with Alphas if they want to be in the Army.”

Everyone in John’s building had to move their things into the other, and the Betas let him sleep as far from the Alphas as he could get, and still have a Beta on either side of him. He was strong, and they knew it. He could fight. But best to avoid a fight all together.

The Major stayed for the rest of the day, watching them run through drills, obstacle courses. John knew he was looking for the weakest link, the Omega. He was surprised that the Alpha couldn’t smell him. Maybe something had happened to his sense of smell. He looked battle scarred and beaten, so it wasn’t too large of a leap. Head trauma would have been the easiest way to do it, though the right blow to the nose…

“Watson!” John’s focus came back to him just as a tire was tossed his way. He grabbed it and, without breaking the momentum, tossed it to the next man down the line. The Major narrowed his eyes on John for a moment, but then moved on.

\------------

Two weeks of living in the barracks with the Alphas passed without incident. John should have known better than to think it would be this easy forever.

Lights out had been ten minutes ago. John was on his side, exhausted, almost asleep. He’d been worrying himself raw all day, thinking about his heat. When was he supposed to get it? It had been three months since he had stopped taking the suppressants. Shouldn’t he be feeling something by now? He was worried that maybe he really was broken. Maybe something was wrong with him that was unfixable. For some reason, he couldn’t stand that thought.

He closed his eyes, body sagging as he started drifting.

Weight settled on top of him, but he thought nothing of it, towards the end of stage one sleep, drifting lower to stage two. The weight got heavier, but not suffocating. Movement along his hairline, and the Omega purred. Affection. John was blissfully unaware, but the Omega couldn’t have been more alert. Something wet on his neck, sharp press against his skin, a growl.

_Bite_.

The Omega and John acted as one, throwing an elbow back to nail the Alpha in the jaw. Fuck, his scent was _everywhere_ , but John was not turned on by it, and the Omega was ready to fight, too ready. The Alpha fell back with a growl, and John was on him. He was aware of lights turning on, other soldiers getting out of bed, but he didn’t care didn’t _care_. He was going to beat this Alpha bloody.

_Don’t you fucking touch me again_.

It felt like hours until someone yanked John off of the Alpha, and he turned and snarled at them as well, ready to attack, but it was a friend, a Beta, his friend.

He was John again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

The Beta shrugged, looking past John to a spot on the floor. John turned, watched as two other Betas grabbed the beaten Alpha and carried him away under the Sergeant’s watchful eye, most likely for medical attention.

John did not feel even the smallest bit of remorse. That was not a worthy Alpha.

“Watson!” The Sergeant was pointing at him, and John couldn’t read the expression on his face. “With me.”

\-----------

“What in the bloody hell is so important that I had to drag my arse here after midnight?”

John was sitting in an office, presumably the Sergeant’s, hands folded placidly in his lap. The blood on his knuckles ruined the illusion of his innocence. He was feral, dangerous. He was going to get his arse shipped home. He’d fucked up. Ruined his chance.

For over an hour, he had sat in the Sergeant’s office, the Beta sitting behind the desk, watching him, not saying anything in order to let him stew over what he had done. John didn’t regret it, but he hated that it meant he would not advance past this point. He’d be on a train home by dawn, surely.

At the entrance of the new voice, John turned.

This man was Alpha to the core, though not in the same way as the Major. This one was younger, early thirties probably. His muscle was still lean and supple on broad shoulders, narrow waist, powerful thighs.

The Omega wanted to submit, right there, on its knees on the floor, throat bared. _Please please please._

John fought back, and he won. He was getting good at winning.

“Colonel.” The Sergeant was standing now. “Sorry to call you on such short notice. I tried the Major first but –”

“He’s away, yes. Different camp. Don’t make me repeat myself, Sergeant.” There was something dangerous in that voice. Not just power, not just the danger of an Alpha. Something else, something that called to the Omega.

“There was a fight.”

“There are always fights. Alphas fight. It’s what we do.” Impatience.

“There was an Omega involved.”

The Colonel made a sound, intrigued, maybe. “I was wondering when you were going to mention the Omega in your office. Stand up, soldier.”

John obeyed instantly, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of an order or if the Omega needed to obey this Alpha. He stood at attention, looking at a spot just to the left of the Colonel’s eyes. No eye contact. Dangerous. Can’t submit. _Won’t_ submit.

“What’s your name?”

“Watson, sir.”

“Look at me.”

Fuck. John looked, met the Colonel’s eyes – sharp green – and immediately glanced to the floor, his head dipping down a little, sign of submission. _Fuck_.

The Colonel made a noise that was purely Alpha, raw power. He didn’t move any closer, though. “Look at me,” he repeated, the man obviously wrestling with the Alpha.

John complied, forcing his head back up, locking eyes with the Colonel, pretending that he was just another Alpha from university, just someone that he wanted to avoid.

The Omega knew better, but John shoved it back, buried it down.

“Tell me what happened tonight, Watson.”

That was all man, all Colonel, and while it was an order, it didn’t make John’s knees want to give out. This was man to man, soldier to soldier. So John told him everything, sparing no details, and he held eye contact the entire time.

The Colonel nodded. “What are you in for, Watson?”

John furrowed his brow, lost. “Sir?”

“Your area. What are you training to be?” There was that edge. No patience. The Omega loved it; John found it… admittedly admirable, if a bit irritating. The Colonel demanded the best and only the best, and there was something John could respect about that.

“RAMC, sir.” John was still lost. Why did this matter? He should be being sent home, packing his things right now. But instead the Alpha was appraising him with a look that almost made the Omega come scratching to the surface.

“Medical doctor,” the Colonel mused, eyes lingering on the blood that covered John’s knuckles. “You didn’t kill him.”

The ‘ _you could have’_ was implied.

“No sir. Wasn’t worth the effort, sir.”

A smirk played across those lips, and there was absolutely no stopping the pleased noise that rattled from John’s chest. The Alpha responded, a lower noise spread between them, but the Colonel was in control again before anything further could happen. “Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Send the Alpha home. Bloody disgrace, can’t even hold his own in a fight. You,” the Colonel waved a finger at John. “When does your training end?”

John did the math quick in his head, though he was still stumbling over the fact that the Alpha that he had beat up was being sent home. “Nine weeks, sir.” That was including the second part of his training, which would focus solely on his medical duties.

“I’ll see you in nine weeks, Watson.”

John stared at the Colonel, dumbstruck. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the Sergeant wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation, either. “Sir?” Clarification. He needed clarification.

“When your training ends your tour starts. I’ll be over there already. I want you on my team, Watson.”

Now John was really weak in the knees, the surprising words knocking most of the air from his lungs. He was still standing, but just barely.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the paperwork. All you have to do is get on a plane.” He had a cocky grin, one that said he knew exactly the risk he was taking and he loved it for exactly that reason.

The Sergeant saluted, and John quickly followed the motion, watching as the Alpha turned his back on them and left the small office.

John waited until he heard the engine of a vehicle turn over and slowly fade away before he lowered himself to the chair and put his head between his knees. Fuck, he might get sick. Right here. His head was spinning.

_What the fuck just happened?_

The Sergeant either didn’t notice or didn’t care, pulling out paperwork from a filing cabinet. “Congratulations, Watson. You just made it onto one of the most sought after units in the whole British Army.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here is where my impatience really comes through. Part two of basic training (where John would have been training to be a RAMC) takes nine months. Nine months!!! I'm too impatient for that, and so I liiiieeeeeddddd and cut it down to like... five weeks. Sorry not sorry. But I just wanted to let you all know that I did my research, I'm fully aware of how much time it would actually take, and I just simply wasn't willing to let John be in training for an additional nine months.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism appreciated as always ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Beta read or Brit picked, so any mistakes are my own ^_^

_“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the paperwork. All you have to do is get on a plane.”_

John didn’t like planes.

He’d never been on one before in his life, couldn’t have held an opinion of one until this moment, but after seven and a half hours, he knew exactly where he stood on the topic. He hated flying. Hated planes. Did not ever want to see one again in his life. Several times he had needed to force bile back down his throat, refusing to throw up.

He was on the ground now, walking through the Kabul airport on weak legs. He wasn’t the only soldier shipped out on that flight, but he was the only one already assigned a team. Before boarding the plane at Heathrow, John had been told that there would be a man waiting for him at the airport. “Probably with a sign with your name on it.”

John was looking. He didn’t see anything –

There. The Colonel. No sign, no proclamation of whom he was waiting for, but John knew. He couldn’t forget that face, those shoulders, that powerful stance, that _don’t fuck with me_ attitude that saturated the air around him. The Omega rattled its cage, wanting out. But John had locked it away and conveniently lost the key.

John stopped in front of the Colonel and saluted. “Colonel Moran.” He had learnt his name from the commanding officer at his stage two training, a week before departure.

Moran arched a brow. “Lieutenant Watson. Flight alright?”

Aside from his scent, there was no sign of the Alpha. John had to wonder if that was because they were in public, among a large throng of people, or if it was for John’s sake. He hoped it wasn’t the latter, because he had the Omega under control.

John grinned, following when Moran started moving away from the crowd. He didn’t need to go to baggage claim, everything he needed in the duffel in his hands. “First time flying, sir. Can’t say I enjoyed it too terribly.”

“Better get used to it, Watson. Helicopter is the main mode of transport around here.”

John’s gut plummeted, hoping that he wouldn’t have to get right back into the air. He might throw up if they had to do that.

“We’re taking a truck to the main base, don’t worry.”

John relaxed. He’d been around Beta’s too long, and he’d forgotten how perceptive Alpha’s were to the emotions of an Omega. There were no calming pheromones coming from the Colonel, however, unlike the Alphas at uni. John was grateful for that, at least.

“We’re going to have to take a chopper out to where we’re stationed, though.”

John’s heart sank once more. He thought he’d gotten out of that. “I’m supposed to check in with the medical unit on base, sir.”

“Something I should know, Watson?” Moran stopped just this side of the main doors, turning to John and arching an eyebrow. John could hold those green eyes, especially with the Omega locked away and Moran in control of his Alpha.

It was evident that they weren’t moving without an answer. John remembered how much the Colonel hated waiting for a reply. “Haven’t been having heats, sir,” he said, and he flushed because it felt like a taboo topic, though he knew he would have to get used to it. He was the only Omega RAMC. He was the only Omega on the Colonel’s team. “They just want to do some tests, draw some blood. I think it might be that my dose of birth control is too high. Though it’s not exactly an inconvenience. It’s just not healthy.”

Moran stepped closer, and something changed, something behind his eyes, in his posture, and John knew that he was letting the Alpha out, just a little. The Omega howled in its cage, and John’s eyes flickered, but he held steady, kept eye contact. The Alpha growled, threatening, warning, and there was suddenly a wide birth being given to them. This was no longer a Colonel to a Lieutenant. This was an Alpha demanding respect from an Omega.

John ducked his head because he knew he should. He didn’t want to let the Omega out. He lost control when he let it out. He couldn’t deal with the mood swings, the irrational anger, the sudden spurts of depression. It made his life a living hell and it made his job practically impossible.

He watched the Colonel step closer, and he was suddenly flooded with his scent, hot, thick, sharp. His lips parted in a whine. Moran was still growling, a constant noise low in his throat, reminding John where his place was. He leant in closer, and John’s heart was suddenly in his throat, trying to jump out. He felt Moran scent him, heard the growl deepen, felt his lips parting, teeth touching.

The Omega reacted before John had a chance to reinforce the cage. He snarled and aimed a bite at the Alpha’s jaw, and when he missed he shoved him back instead. He was crouched low, offensive, ready to attack, not ready for a bite, not ready to mate. _Defend defend defend._

Moran smiled, Alpha repressed, and the soothing wash of calming pheromones eased the Omega into remission and brought John back into control. He was panting, from fear and adrenaline. “Sir?”

The Colonel met John’s hesitant gaze, which dropped down in submission almost instantly. “You need to learn how far to push it down, Watson. It’s part of you. You can control it, but you can’t make it go away.” He was silent a moment. “You’re going to need the beast to stay alive out here, Watson.”

John wished that he _could_ make the Omega go away, but instead of saying anything he straightened up and followed Moran’s lead to a vehicle waiting outside.

“There are a few rules you should know about my unit.”

John glanced over at the Colonel as they both climbed into the back of the sand-coloured vehicle, just a hint more muted than John’s hair. He had been expecting the Colonel to sit up front, but he was, as he always seemed to be, surprised.

“What would those be, sir?” Respect for the ranking officer. Respect for the Alpha.

“We call each other by our last names, even me. Kind of a King Arthur thing, but no man is any more or less valuable than any other man on my team. Last names only. Always. Got it?”

John nodded. “Yes, sir.” That was a programmed response and he didn’t think he would be able to change it at this point. Anyone who outranked him would be addressed as ‘sir’ when he responded to him.

“Ready to go, sir?” asked the Beta in the front, who was looking at the Colonel from the rear view mirror.

“Whenever you are, Lieutenant.”

The engine turned over and caught, rumbling low and threatening. They started moving, and John turned back to Moran.

“Second rule,” the Colonel continued, “We share everything. You put up your own sleeping area, and then you help the man next to you when you’re done. If someone’s out of ammo, you share or you cover them. We are a family, and right now you’re the newest member. You’re the only Omega, and there are only two Betas. It’s a team of twelve, Watson. Can you handle nine Alphas?”

It was a taunt, meant to get a reaction out of John. Meant to get him to say something stupid or cocky. He wasn’t going to say that he had beaten an Alpha before, or that he had bested the overwhelming majority of the Alphas at basic. That would be an insult to the Alphas on Moran’s team, comparing them to Alphas far younger than them. He wasn’t going to say that he could take them, or that some stupid part of his Omega self would feel agitated around them. Instead he said, “Handle them, sir? Will they be so eager to harass me?” Inquisitive, not challenging. Clarification.

Moran arched a bow. “Can you handle being around them?”

Ah. _‘Will you and your Omega nature cause me problems?’_

John couldn’t help thinking that Moran should have thought that through before he decided he wanted an Omega on his team.

“I can control myself, sir.” Again he didn’t mention that he had lived among Alphas for fourteen weeks. He stated a truth. He could control himself. He’d been doing remarkably well until Moran had pulled that trick at the airport. John was still trying to figure out what the Colonel had meant in saying that John needed to learn how much to control the Omega. Why bother? He didn’t want any part of it. But the Omega had escaped and he would have to spend his time building a better cage.

“Alright, then, Watson. Last rule. I want you to speak your mind. When we’re in the field, coming up with a plan or trying to execute something, and you have a different idea or a question, ask it. I can’t help you understand if I think you already do. And I like getting a different view on things. You’re not allowed to backtalk me or challenge me, or argue against direct orders, but I encourage discussion. Understood?”

John nodded. “Yes, sir.”

They fell quiet, John for once not brimming with questions. He was exhausted from the flight, his internal clock was messed up from the change of time zones, he was still slightly nauseous from the flight, and now he was staring at a city he didn’t know and watching it flash past in a blur as they made their way towards the main base of the British Army.

The smell of Alpha got stronger the longer they were sitting, and John rolled down his window, needing fresh air, needing to clear his head.

Moran growled a warning, and John saw him tense beside him. He quickly rolled the window back up.

“Don’t like the way I smell, Watson?”

The voice was teasing, but predatory, and John shivered at the combination of man and Alpha. Perfect balance, perfect control. He envied it.

“I like to have a clear head, Moran,” he responded, trying the name out on his tongue as he turned to look at the Colonel.

He shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have looked, because the man was gone, and he was staring at well over six feet and probably more than twenty stone of solid, powerful, muscular Alpha. He whined, submissive instantly, head ducking down, but a hand caught his chin. “Look at me,” the Alpha rumbled, and, fuck, John knew that he shouldn’t but he couldn’t disobey an order, not when the Omega was moulding into Moran’s touch and shivering pleasantly at the heat he was giving off and his scent washing over him.

He looked up, and blue eyes met green. A pleased noise rumbled from the Alpha’s chest, and the Omega chuffed back, happy to have made the Alpha happy. They were not men, they were beasts, and John was content to let it happen in the back of a moving vehicle and not out in the open.

The hand on his chin softened, thumb dragging down over John’s jugular, where his scent was the strongest. He shivered, purred, but didn’t move, not wanting to upset the Alpha, not wanting to bring about an angry response. The thumb froze at the hollow of John’s throat, nestled at the dip in his collarbone, and John’s eyes were still locked with the Alpha’s. Something passed between them, and it made every nerve in John’s body stand on end. Moran’s hand moved around to the back of his neck, fingertips tracing hairline, another strong place for scent, before wrapping around the scruff of his neck and digging his nails in.

The Omega didn’t react violently this time, knowing it wasn’t a bite, just an imitation. But the Alpha’s message was crystal clear.

John was his possession now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins *dramatic music*
> 
> As always, comments and critiques are welcome UWU


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, not beta read or Brit picked
> 
> Hope you enjoy ^_^

“Take a deep breath, John.” The doctor was using John’s first name so that he would seem more friendly and approachable, but the sterile nature and limited furniture of the room was ruining that illusion.

John inhaled deep, able to smell Moran even through the antiseptic that clung to the air. The Alpha was standing in the corner, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, watching everything the Beta doctor did. Making sure that his possession was taken care of.

John didn’t mind being possessed by Moran. It didn’t mean that they were mates, didn’t mean that they had to be mates, didn’t mean that John couldn’t eventually find his mate and leave Moran’s possession. What it meant was that John had Sebastian’s protection. Absolute, and unwavering. Alphas could possess a lot of things, from special objects to territory to Omegas. It was unusual for the possession of an Omega to not end in mating, but John wanted nothing to do with that. He was quite satisfied with the Colonel’s protection.

“Let it out, slowly.” The stethoscope was cold on his back. John breathed out. “Good, good. Lungs are fine, then.”

Hoops. So many hoops to jump through just to adjust the amount of milligrams of birth control he was being given. A full physical, despite the fact that he had literally just had one forty-eight hours ago. Bureaucratic bollocks was what it was. The government didn’t like Omegas controlling their bodies, so the government controlled that control, and they kept it locked up tight in very hard to reach places.

“Alright, John, mind if I check your teeth?”

_What the fuck? Why?_ When had checking his teeth become a requirement? What did his teeth have to do with his lack of desire for pups?

“Oh, for the love of –”

“Watson,” his name was a growl on Moran’s lips.

John sagged. “Fine,” he said, and opened his mouth. After several moments of poking and prodding, the doctor found “nothing out of order,” and scribbled something on his notepad. John was getting sick of this. Temperature, reflexes, eyes, hearing, a recap of his musculature exam since they didn’t have the equipment here to do another one. John was getting edgy, the Omega not wanting to be here anymore.

Moran took a step closer, and John’s focus zeroed in on him. He relaxed. Bloody pheromones. Alphas had been known to use them to take advantage of Omegas, but it was evident that Moran would not do that, because as soon as John’s hands unclenched, the pheromones disappeared, and it was just Moran’s normal scent in the room.

The doctor was oblivious. Betas didn’t have the ability to scent; there was no point in being able to scent if they couldn’t reproduce. “I’m going to take some blood now, and we can get that sent off for some testing.” John didn’t need blood tests to know that he needed his dosage readjusted. More hoops.

He held his arm out, watching the elastic get tied, watching the doctor try to find a vein – _there_ – and then grab the syringe. A drop of blood escaped, slid down his arm. It was fine. He had good veins, and that happened sometimes.

The growl in his ear was so loud that he nearly jumped. The protective Alpha obviously didn’t know that a drop of blood was no big deal. John made a sound like a defensive cat and hissed, pushing Moran back with his free hand. The Alpha didn’t budge, and pushing against a muscular and solid stomach wasn’t doing John any good. But he kept his hand there, if not to ward Sebastian away then to at least reassure him.

_See? Your Omega is fine. Your possession wasn’t hurt. Don’t kill the doctor because I really need this dosage fixed and I don’t want to have to go through this again with a different one._

Moran’s posture relaxed, but the low growling was continuous. John knew that he couldn’t have everything, and decided that it was a win.

He turned in time to see the doctor pull the needle out and cover the spot with a cotton ball. John’s fingers replaced the Beta’s, holding the cotton in place until it could be taped down. The growling had stopped, though Moran hadn’t backed away – probably because there was still a line of blood down the inside of John’s elbow. He sighed softly, and fingers were suddenly tracing his hairline, relaxing him. Reaffirming touch was how Alpha’s made sure their possessions were still, well, _theirs_. John made a soft sound. Yes, he still belonged to Moran. Yes, he was alright.

It felt strange, though. John hadn’t seen the Colonel stay as the Alpha for so long. He missed the man, if he was honest. But the Omega was satisfied with the Alpha.

John had just had his twenty-third birthday, and he was ever aware that most Omegas were mated by now and most likely expecting their first pup soon. Maidens always had only one pup, but after that, they came in litters between two and four. Two was the most common. John couldn’t imagine it, and he was eternally grateful for choosing the army instead of a boring life as a homemaker and a breeder.

“Alright, then. I’ll get this sent off to the lab, and results should be back within a week. I’ll let you know what they said and then we can adjust your dosage.”

A week. John lifted his eyes to Moran, who was looking at him as a man. It was frightening how quickly he could shift back and forth. Practice, he supposed. Moran had at least ten years on John, and a lot of practice could be done in that time. “Will we be able to get the information?” Moran and his team were operating out of a much smaller base to the north of Kabul, and John didn’t know how well emails or phone calls would come through.

“The phones work. They’re monitored, but that’ll have to do.”

At least they wouldn’t have to make a special trip back to Camp Souter just for John. He would hate it if they had had to. It was bad enough that he was an Omega, and it would be worse if he ended up giving them extra work.

“Anything else?” Moran’s question was directed to the doctor. His fingers were still resting on John’s hairline.

The doctor shook his head. “I’ll call when the results come back.” He stood, and reluctantly John did as well. Moran’s fingers fell from his hair. “John.” He held out his hand; John shook it. “Colonel Moran.” A salute.

“Come on, John. We have a flight to catch.”

John followed without a word. He made a face once they were out of the office, and his shoulders drooped a bit. Moran stopped and faced him, and John wondered if the Colonel was getting tired of doing that. He didn’t like delay, and yet he had done it twice now. The first time in the airport, to release John’s tightly caged Omega. And now here.

“You’re disappointed.”

It was a statement. Moran would be able to smell the emotion on him, and even if he couldn’t, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out. John was only wondering why they had stopped walking.

“Of course I am. I want this fixed, not delayed because of some stupid regulations that the bloody government put in place.” He’d been hoping for a new prescription today, but it had been a very small hope.

“I can understand that,” Moran said, reaching out a hand to take John’s wrist, turning his arm over. The blood on his elbow had dried, but the Colonel still seemed fixated on it. John watched as Moran licked his thumb and slowly, gently, cleaned the blood away. ‘Gentle’ was not a term John would use lightly to describe an Alpha, and yet there he was. It was well-known that Alphas treated their possessions very well, but it was also common knowledge that Alphas were violent, known to kill other Alphas, and there were even cases where an Alpha had killed its mate during heat.

They stood there for a second longer, scents swirling in the air around them, other soldiers passing them by as if they were not there. John pulled his arm away. “We have a helicopter to catch, sir.”

Moran nodded, taking a step back. “Ready for your second flight?”

_Not really_. It was getting dark, John was even more tired than before, his duffel felt heavier, and there was nothing in his stomach, which meant that if he got nauseous, if he vomited, it would be straight bile. Incentive not to vomit, he supposed. “Lead on, Moran.”

The Colonel grinned at the answer that wasn’t really an answer at all. “You’ll make one hell of a soldier, Watson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possessive!Sebastian is the best Sebastian tbh xD
> 
> Comments and critiques appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read or brit picked.
> 
> Things are getting interesting ;)

There were no doors on the helicopter. John almost lost control of his lurching stomach twice, and only squeezing his eyes shut and reciting the names of some extremely complex disorders kept his stomach from emptying itself.

John’s vicelike grip on the straps that held him in place seemed to amuse the hell out of Moran. “Just relax, Watson!” he laughed through the headset, and John envied the excitement in his eyes, the thrill of the rush that flying gave him. There was nothing about being in the air that gave John any sort of enjoyment.

Under the cover of darkness, they landed on a flat piece of compacted sand, and Moran all but pulled John off of the helicopter and away, arm around his shoulders to keep him hunched over in protection from the sand that swirled in the whipping of the blades. Moran waved at the pilot, and the helicopter took off, heading back to Kabul.

Suddenly John was very alone with Moran in the very quiet night.

“Come on,” Moran said, keeping his voice low. His lips were so close to John’s ear that John had to force himself not to shiver at the hot breath tickling his skin. “Let’s get you some supper, and then I’ll show you to your sleeping quarters. You can meet everyone in the morning.”

Though he missed Moran’s warmth as soon as the Colonel pulled away, John followed Moran through the darkness. He hadn’t been able to see the base from the air, and now he knew that it was because there were absolutely no lights on. It was a stealth tactic to keep the base safe from unwanted eyes, but it was still unnerving to be strolling through the darkness in an unfamiliar place. What if they were mistaken for enemies and shot? John could hardly see a thing.

He was surprised at how dark the desert had gotten as soon as the sun was gone. And how cold. Before, John had been sweating in his shirt, now he was wishing for another layer.

He followed Moran, senses on alert. He could smell a Beta, but the scent was old and carried on the wind. He resisted the urge to bend down and creep along. But Moran was walking normally, and so John did as well. After a short while of their boots scuffing along the ground, they came to a halt near what John could make out as a building. Well, he figured that it had to be a building. It was a darker shape in the ink of the night, and it was massive.

The Colonel opened a door, and John’s thoughts were confirmed. The light inside was dim, but John could make out the interior. It was the mess hall, rows of long tables spread before them. According to Moran’s earlier comment about meeting everyone tomorrow, the hall should have been empty, but it was not. There was a group of men, mostly Alphas, milling about, some seated at a table, others standing nearby.

“What are you lot doing, waiting up for me?”

The men perked up at Moran’s voice, and a chorus of greetings went up from them. Moran walked forward, and John followed at a distance. They’d would soon notice his Omega scent, and he wasn’t sure how they would respond to that.

The group welcomed back the Colonel with pats and playful punches and nods of approval. John saw admiration on all of their faces. They respected Moran, and John could certainly understand why. John was in the background, the shortest of all of them, the only Omega, and he waited.

A Beta noticed him first, not by smell, but just by glancing at him. “This the new guy?”

And just like that, ten pairs of eyes were on him, and slowly, Moran turned to look as well. “This is Watson,” he introduced, and John was glad, because he couldn’t find his voice, caught between eight Alphas that walked closer, surrounded him. Their scent was everywhere and his heart was in his throat, hands at his sides, trying to display calm body language. One of them, the one with the most muscular arms, stepped closer than the others, and John snarled at him, hackles raised. They wouldn’t have treated anyone else like this, and he wasn’t going to stand for it just because he was an Omega.

Still snarling, he shoved through them, and to his surprise, they let him go without a fuss.

“He’s really little, Moran,” one of them commented. John had his back to them and didn’t turn to look. He was facing Sebastian, who was the only Alpha in the room that mattered.

“He can hold his own,” Moran answered.

It wasn’t actually a compliment, just a statement of fact, but John felt proud anyway. It felt like praise coming from Moran.

The group lost interest at that point. They couldn’t harass John without a fight, and he certainly wasn’t here to pleasure them. So they walked back to the table. One of them gestured over his shoulder at the kitchen – the men had yet to be introduced to John, and he had ten new names to learn. “Couple sacks in the fridge for ya. Saved ‘em from supper.”

Moran nodded. “Take a seat, Watson.” He walked off, then, presumably to the kitchens to grab the sacks of food.

John hadn’t eaten almost all day, and the thought of food earned him a desperate rumble from his stomach. He sat in the nearest open seat, between a Beta and an Alpha. To his surprise and relief, neither of them remarked on it in any way, though the Alpha shifted a bit away from John. If it was to give John some room, he appreciated it. If it was active avoidance, he couldn’t have cared less at the moment. He didn’t have to fight anyone to prove himself, and he wasn’t being harassed. Being ignored was preferable to all of that.

Moran returned with the bags and tossed one to John before he took a seat at the end of the table. It took every ounce of John’s self control to refrain from ripping into the food and stuffing himself. He ate slowly, civilised, focused on each bite. He was used to the taste of mess hall food by now, and though it didn’t hold a hand to his mother’s cooking, it wasn’t bad at all.

Everything was going fine until an Alpha across the table decided to take a biscuit from John’s stash of food.

In hindsight, John should have expected that. Moran had told him that, on his team, sharing was caring, and food often got passed around. But in the present, John was a hungry Omega who had just had food taken from him. The next thing he knew, he was straddling the Alpha on the floor, pinning him with his weight, hand gripping the Alpha’s hair to yank his head back, and his teeth were closed over his exposed jugular. The room was completely silent except for John’s continuous snarl.

“Watson.” The voice was calm, but John’s snarls continued, his eyes flicking around to locate who was talking. The Alpha below him shifted, but John’s bite tightened, and he went still again. Alphas couldn’t make submissive noises, they didn’t know how, but John guessed that this one would be whimpering if he could.

“Watson, no one is out to get you. You’re not going to starve. We won’t take your food.”

_Damn right you won’t._

John didn’t let go. There was a point he had to prove, and he couldn’t let go until he had.

There was a presence behind him, heavy and powerful, leaning over him. John’s snarl deepened, but he didn’t relinquish his hold. _Don’t take from me, don’t take what’s mine._ A strong arm banded across his chest, hand curling around his shoulder to secure him back against a solid chest. There was a rushing in John’s ears, and he was starting to panic. He was trapped, frightened. His jaw tightened.

“John,” the voice was in his ear, low and calming, “let him go.”

_Do **not** let him go._

Pinpricks of pain triggered along the back of his neck, and John reacted to that the way he always did – violently. His jaw opened, releasing the Alpha he had pinned as he moved to attack the one behind him, but the hold on him was strong. He reached back, scraping his nails along the Alpha’s neck before his wrist was grabbed. The Alpha – _strong Alpha_ – rolled them over, pinning John to the ground, caging him with his heat.

A nose brushed his hairline, lips running down to his ear. He felt a cheek rub against the side of his neck, scenting him. John felt himself relaxing, the Omega purring contently. This was a worthy Alpha, strong Alpha, provider.

The Omega drew away, and John sagged.

“Shh.” It was Moran, voice gentle in his ear. His arm was still banded across John’s chest, holding him up. The Alpha in Moran had pulled back as well, and now it was just Moran and John on the floor. “Take it easy, Watson. Deep breaths.”

There were pheromones in the air. But, despite his annoyance at the stupid chemicals, John inhaled them anyway, breathing deep, his forehead resting on the floor. “You’re safe here, Watson, I promise. Holt just forgot. We haven’t been around Omegas in a really long time, and it’s easy to forget things like that. No one’s going to take your food again, okay? My personal guarantee. We watch out for our own, Watson. And that includes you now.” Silence followed what had been, coming from Moran, just rambling sentences meant to calm John down, get him to stabilise. John’s breathing was back to normal now, and he had enough shame to be embarrassed about what he had done. “Come on, up you get.” Moran’s voice was still gentle as he helped John sit up.

John kept his eyes to the floor, submissive to this pack of Alphas because he knew he was the outsider and he had been in the wrong.

Needless to say, he was shocked by the way the pack proceeded to act.

“Sorry, Watson. I should have known better.” Holt was apologising to him, to John. The Alpha glanced at Moran, and obviously the Colonel must have given the go ahead, because Holt and the rest of the pack stepped forward and got on their knees, until everyone was at the same level.

John was moved, deeply and truly. Nine Alphas and two Betas were treating him as an equal, and, more important to him, they were treating him as part of a pack that any sane person could see he didn’t belong to. “Thank you,” he whispered, having trouble meeting their eyes, not out of submissiveness now, but out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry that I reacted like that. I… I’ve never done that before. Not to that extent.”

Holt shrugged, his good nature going against the angry red mark on his throat. As if it wasn’t there at all. “You were hungry. Like I said, I should have known better.” He grinned, and there was a mischievous light behind his eyes that John had an instant liking for. “You’ve got more muscle than I thought. Shite, kid, scared the crap right out of me, I swear it.” There was a chorus of agreement and teasing at Holt’s expense. “Honest though, Watson. Don’t sweat it. We’ve all got the beast in us.”

John was starting to think that he might be able to like it here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should warn all of you that I haven't written anything new for this in a long while. I mean I still have several chapters written after this, but my life has been a mess lately with finals and stuff so like... idk hopefully I can get back to it *fingers crossed*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read or Brit picked. 
> 
> I'm sorry that it's so short, but the next chapter more than makes up for it, I promise

Zero five hundred was John’s usual wake up call. Even with the difference of time zones, his body knew, and he was awake before the other men. He laid in bed for a moment, listening to them breathing, scenting the air and getting used to the way this particular group of Alphas smelled. Usually it didn’t matter. An Alpha was an Alpha and unless they were your mate – whose scent shifted a bit after mating – they were bad news and that was all the information an Omega needed. They did, however, each have their own unique scent. If this was to be John’s family, he figured he ought to associate smell and name with a face, and quickly.

He stood after a while, going about gathering some clothes and taking them into the shower with him. Each building had their own set of showers, and each building was occupied by only one team. John still wasn’t extremely comfortable around Moran’s team – John’s team now, too – but he was still comfortable enough to dip into the showers. He’d had to shower with Alphas at Basic, and this was no different. He was only alone for a few short minutes before the broadest Alpha – _what was his name? Taylor? pretty sure it’s Taylor_ – came sauntering in, eyes still heavy from sleep.

“Bit early ta be awake, ain’t it?” he mumbled, stripping out of his clothes and walking to one of the shower heads, turning it on and waiting for it to warm. “We don’t gotta be up ‘til zero seven hundred.”

Jesus. That seemed so late to John. What the fuck had they done to earn such a privilege?

“Sorry,” he said, scrubbing down. “Internal clock doesn’t want to reset.”

“How long you been wakin’ up this damn early?”

“Since the start of Basic.”

Taylor whistled and shook his head. “Bloody bastards. Tryin’ ta make things seem worse than they are. Haven’ had to wake up b’fore zero seven hundred tha whole time I’ve been here, ‘les we were on duty.”

John couldn’t tell if that was always the way Taylor talked, or if it was worsened by grogginess. He knew that a lot of men who joined the army had done it because they couldn’t do well in school and, as Alphas and Betas, they needed to be able to contribute to society, but shite, hadn’t his parents taught him how to talk proper? John shook his head. “Guess I’ve been missing out.”

“You’ll get used to it,” came a new voice as one of the Betas – _Marshall?_ – joined them. “We’ll start keeping you up later into the night, and eventually your body will adjust.”

“Don’t make him too soft. We’re not going to be here much longer.” Holt – who John could easily identify both by his red hair and his mischievous eyes – had just walked in as well. Apparently when one person was awake, the rest were, too.

Taylor made a disgruntled growl, and John, for once in his life, found the sound more humorous than threatening. “Forgot ‘bout that.”

John swivelled his head between the two Alphas. “Forgot about what?” He felt pretty out of the loop.

“Eh,” Holt waved his hand dismissively, stepping under the spray of water and shaking his head when he pulled back from it. His hair was long and curly, and John wondered why he was allowed to grow it out so far. Wasn’t that against the rules? “We’re taking off in about a week. Got a mission to work out, something too big for the other teams. Shouldn’t be a long one, though. Pretty routine for us.”

Thompson walked in just then, and John gave him a sideways glance. He was the only Alpha that didn’t seem to care for John. The only soldier on the whole team, really. The others had accepted him, whether because he didn’t act like a typical Omega or because Moran had not only personally recruited him, but also laid claim to him. John didn’t care either way. He didn’t feel like an outsider among them, and that was major for him. For some reason though, Thompson didn’t like him. And it wasn’t outright hatred, it was more as if the Alpha felt that there was no place on this team for a small Omega.

John finished his shower and got out, dressing just outside of the shower area after drying off. When he looked up, Moran was watching him, an eyebrow raised, gaze on John’s abdomen. John knew what he saw, and he quickly pulled a shirt on. Moran’s eyes flicked up, and John met his gaze, holding it for a long time before he slowly shook his head in negation. Moran’s eyes narrowed, but then he looked away, grabbing his towel and standing. John, realising that he was heading to the showers, quickly got out of his way.

The other Beta, who was dressed and obviously not showering, gave John a curious look. John shrugged and made a small gesture as if to say _‘who knows?’_ And, honestly, why Sebastian cared to find out about the scar, John didn’t know. Lots of people had scars. John, for one, had several. And just because he was technically Moran’s possession, he was not obligated to tell him every little detail about himself just because the Colonel wished it so. Even if that particular scar was a long and nasty one.

John finished dressing by the cot that had been assigned to him. His dog tags were tucked beneath his dusty tan tee, which was properly tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He sat at the edge of the cot to lace his boots as he and the other six members of the team sat around waiting for everyone else.

John tried running through names. Lowe was the other Beta – he and Marshall were the easiest to remember because he could instantly pick them apart from the rest of the pack by size and smell alone. Then there were the Wallace brothers, both taller than Moran, built narrow and lean, but John had no doubts about their power. Pearson was the intellect of the group, and the youngest – another easy one to pick out – at only nineteen. The last two were both returning soldiers on their fifth tour. They had told John themselves that they just couldn’t see themselves doing anything else, and that they would rather die in the desert than waste away back home. Their names were Garza and Cole.

Slowly, the others started filtering back out of the showers, towelling off and pulling on their clothes. Together, the pack walked to the mess hall, where breakfast was just starting to be served. John asked for extra portions and he was given it without hesitation from the Beta serving the food. Moran’s pack all sat at the same table, John between Holt and Marshall. He was totally lost in the humour that the other men shared, talking about past experiences, past missions, joking around and stealing each other’s food. No one touched John’s food, though, and he was glad. A mood swing in front of other soldiers – who had started to trickle in at the promise of food – was not something John needed right now. The side-glances he was getting from some of the strange Alphas were more than enough attention as it was.

Halfway through breakfast, an unknown Beta came up to the table with a request for Moran to come with him. The Colonel sighed and got to his feet, but before he left he gestured at Holt. “Show Watson around, yeah?”

After Moran left, the others quickly finished breakfast and departed, off to do… whatever it was that they did. Holt twisted in his seat to look John, hands on his thighs, giving him an expectant look. “Ready to take a tour of your new home?”

John gave an exaggerated sigh and heavily pushed to his feet. “If I must,” he said, a small smirk the only thing betraying his kidding nature.

Holt gave him a grave look. “I’m afraid you must.”

Both of them busted out laughing at exactly the same moment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING**  
> This chapter contains serious, serious trigger warnings. I'm not going to tag them right now, though, because I don't want to ruin the surprise for anyone who might be reading this late.   
> If you are concerned that this chapter might be triggering, please send me a message at philosophium.tumblr.com off anon and I will let you know what's going on so that you can prepare.
> 
> Otherwise, this is not beta read or Brit picked, and I hope you enjoy.

In all of the months of John’s training, never once had he been told how _fucking_ _boring_ it was living on base. Yeah, sure, they had flat screen TVs set up for video games, they had courts outside for physical games – football and rugby were the most popular, alongside other games that the soldiers must have made up themselves – and the teams were on rotation for who had to be posted on watch during the night. But all of that lost its novelty after the third day.

It was day six when things finally got even a bit interesting.

~~~~~

The shout came from outside. “What the fuck happened?”

John’s head swivelled toward the door of the mess hall, where he was just finishing lunch with Garza and Lowe. He caught their eyes, his frown mirroring theirs. They stood up together, leaving their trays on the table as they walked.

The situation outside was worse than the fight John had been imagining.

“Go get my pack,” he said, turning to Lowe, because Lowe was a Beta and Betas listened to orders. When he had ran off, John stripped out of his shirt and marched over to the bleeding man. “What happened?” he demanded, shoving an Alpha out of the way and kneeling beside the wounded soldier.

The Alpha growled, defensive at being ordered around by an Omega, but that was why Garza was there, and the older man shoved the other Alpha back to give John space.

The only other Alpha there, who was supporting the wounded soldier’s head, replied. “We don’t know. He came limping into camp and I only barely caught him before he collapsed.”

John could feel Garza bristling behind him even as he pressed his tee against the soldier’s bloody side, trying to do what he could to slow the bleeding without his medical supplies.

“And you didn’t sound the alarm _why?_ ” Garza growled, and John glanced up at him, fear grabbing the pit of his stomach. _Danger danger danger_. Fuck, what if there were enemies close by, what if they were in the camp already? _Run to your Alpha. Alpha will protect you._ John shoved the fear down, focusing his attention back on the wounded man.

“Garza, go sound the alarm.”

“Watson…” he sounded hesitant.

John wondered if Moran had ordered him not to leave John’s side. “ _Go_ ,” he snapped, turning to snarl at him briefly. “You,” he nodded at the Alpha holding the soldier’s head, “let’s get him inside. Mess hall’s the closest.” They didn’t have a medic at this camp. If you were wounded and couldn’t make it back to Souter, you died. It was rough living, but these teams were the best of the best.

The Alpha had just lifted the wounded soldier when Lowe came running back, John’s pack over his shoulders. “You’re going to be my assistant,” John said, keeping his shirt pressed to the soldier’s side as they walked as quickly as possible into the mess hall. “Set him down on the table,” he instructed, kicking chairs away so that he didn’t have to leave the soldier’s side. “What’s your name, soldier?” John asked, leaning over to catch his eyes.

“Wright.” His voice was faint and scratchy. His lips were cracked. He’d been in the desert for a while.

Distantly, John heard the sirens wail, short bursts of sound that eventually faded away again. “No, what’s your first name, soldier?”

“Evan.”

John turned to Lowe. “Scissors. And take out the gauze now, because I’m going to need a lot of it.” He looked back at the soldier. “Evan. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six, sir.”

“Where’s home, Evan?” He cut away the bloodied shirt, tossing it and his own soiled shirt to the side. Lowe was already holding gauze out for him, and John took it, swiping at the bloodied area to see where the wound was and how bad.

“Bristol, sir.”

“Bristol? You know, I’ve never been there. What’s it like there, Evan?” _Shite_. Knife wound, could be deep. At least he didn’t have to worry about fishing a bullet out, but there could be internal damage that he not only couldn’t see, but also couldn’t treat. “Saline solution. Get the needle and thread ready, but don’t take them out of the packages yet.” It was bad enough that John was getting his germs all over the place. There was no need to be adding to the mess.

“It’s alright, sir.”

John took the saline and used it to soak a large handful of gauze. “Evan, I really want to hear about Bristol.” He smiled encouragingly. “Did you live with family?” He turned back to Lowe. “There should be a numbing agent in there somewhere. Get it out.”

“I had my own place, sir. Family – ah!” John had started wiping with the saline-soaked gauze, and he knew it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. “Family lived a few streets down. My mum… she liked to cook me dinner on Friday nights.”

“Oh yeah? Was she a good cook, then?” John pressed the gauze to the wound, watching it turn red with the blood that was seeping out. He took the numbing agent from Lowe and smeared it around the wound.

Evan, for his part, was doing remarkably well with the pain. “No, sir. She was terrible. One of the reasons I moved out.”

John met Evan’s eyes and grinned. “What else can you tell me about home, Evan?”

He moved Lowe’s hand to press against the gauze while John took the sterile needle and thread out of their packaging. He threaded the needle in one go, and moved himself into a better position. “As I’m threading,” he said, voice cast down as he talked to Lowe, “I need you to keep wiping at the blood. Not too much pressure, but just clean it off for me so that I can see.”

John could hear Evan still talking, and he touched the edge of the wound. Evan paused, his breath catching. “Keep talking, Evan. Tell me about your family.” He waited until Evan started talking again before he began stitching. It was a long process, and even with the numbing agent, he knew that it was painful as all hell. The other Alpha, who John had almost entirely forgotten about, worked on keeping Evan’s attention, and Lowe focused diligently on keeping the wound clear.

Finally, John finished the last stitch and cut the thread. “Bandage, please.” Lowe complied immediately, and John applied it. He waited, watching for blood to come through. To his relief, it didn’t. He looked up at Evan, who had passed out. At least, John thought he had just passed out, but his chest wasn’t moving. “Evan?” He pressed two bloody fingers to the place under Evan’s jaw where there should have been a pulse, but there wasn’t. “Get him on the floor,” he all but snarled, helping to move Evan down, gently.

He started chest compressions. “Don’t you fucking die on me.” He kept at it, counting off compressions and breathing a breath into his lungs. “Don’t. Fucking. Die.” He checked for a pulse again. Nothing.

“Watson, he’s gone.” Lowe’s hand was on his shoulder, gently tugging him back.

The fight left him, and he sat back on his heels, shoulders slumped, and looked down at the twenty-six year old who had been out in the desert too long to be saved. Who wouldn’t get to eat another one of his mother’s terrible home-cooked meals.

John’s adrenaline was gone, and it was a miracle that he even managed to stand up, take his pack from Lowe, and walk from the building. He wasn’t even thinking about the alarm that had been sounded, only thinking that he wanted a shower and maybe… well, he didn’t know what else he wanted. The shower was the only thing on his mind. Maybe he could drown himself there.

He stepped through the door to the barracks he shared with the rest of the team, his head down, body numb. He wasn’t expecting the rough hands that grabbed his shoulders and slammed him back against the wall.

“What happened to you? Where are you hurt?” Frantic hands ran over John’s arms, his chest, his stomach, searching for a wound that wasn’t there.

“Moran,” he said, almost listlessly. The hands didn’t stop. “ _Moran_.” Green eyes met blue. “I’m not the one that was bleeding.” The obvious relief in the Colonel’s eyes almost made John sick. He moved to push past those stupid broad shoulders and those stupid green eyes, but Moran held him in place. “He died,” John snapped, but it was a weak effort. “Please, just… let me go wash this off.”

After another moment, Moran backed away, and John walked past him into the showers. He didn’t bother undressing, stepping under a cold spray that bounced off the bare skin of his shoulders and chest like pin pricks and soaked into his trousers, weighing them down and making them stick to John’s thighs. He dropped his head down, watching the water run pink down the drain. He yelled in anger, frustration, agony, slamming his hand into the wall in front of him until everything became too much, and he slid to his knees.

It wasn’t long before the water was shut off and a towel was draped over his shoulders. “Come on, John,” a soft voice whispered in his ear, strong hands taking hold of his upper arms and guiding him to his feet. He was directed from the showers and into the sleeping area, where he was effectively stripped of his trousers and then sat down on a folded towel that had been placed on the edge of his bed. Moran was efficient; John couldn’t deny that. He wondered, though, how much of this was Moran and how much was the Alpha. Alphas were generally more protective than caring, but Moran didn’t come across as someone who was extensively caring, either.

A hard shiver wracked him, and he decided it didn’t matter. He stared at the floor as Moran sat beside him, gently drying him off before wrapping him in a blanket. John’s hand was on his stomach, thumb stroking his scar, his mind in another place, at a different time.

“Was he your first?” Moran’s voice, though low and gentle, startled John. His body gave a small jump, but he didn’t move his eyes from his thousand-metre stare.

“My first?” John was confused.

“Your first death,” Moran clarified. Always clarifying things for John. Bloody impatient man slowing down for the Omega that couldn’t keep up _._

_Oh, he’s talking about the soldier. Soldier from today, bleeding out, Evan, couldn’t save him._

John nodded his head in assent.

Moran shifted on the bed, but John wasn’t looking, could only feel. “What happened?” asked the Colonel.

John’s eyes fogged with tears. _Mood swing_. But he wasn’t cataloguing it, couldn’t control it. “I-I can’t,” he whispered, shaking his head. He’d already been to therapy. He’d forgotten about this. Why was it suddenly the only thing he could think of?

“John.” There was that soft voice again, no hint of Alpha, every bit of the man. “You have to tell someone. It’s not easy, but necessary.”

_Is that what you do? Do you tell people when something’s eating you so raw inside that you would rather it consume you than carry on living one more second in this agony?_

John shook his head again. _Can’t can’t can’t can’t_.

“Jo-”

“He- he raped me.”

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, then, “Who?” Moran was fighting for control, the Alpha ready to rip apart whoever had touched its property.

John, already limp, sagged in defeat. “My father.” The words were barely a whisper, and John hoped to hell that Moran had heard him because he didn’t want to repeat it.

Tentative fingertips touched John’s shoulder, brushing over the skin there.

Everything was rushing out before he could stop it.

“I’ve only had one heat in my life, when I was twelve, and it was the most _horrible_ thing that’s ever happened to me. I can remember my mother there right away, wetting down my forehead, but she worked as a nurse back then and she couldn’t take time off, so she had to leave before the heat was over. My father was the only other person in the house because Harry was with a friend, and he didn’t… He said he was going to help me, that he was going to make it better, but I was… so young and I just…” The breath he sucked in to refill empty lungs was shaky, but he carried on. He couldn’t seem to make himself stop.

“I got pregnant. I was twelve and I got pregnant and no one knew until I started to show because I was too young and my body didn’t know what to do with chemicals and pheromones. Mum called the police and I had to tell everyone what had happened and one night I just… I was so scared and so angry and I didn’t want to have a pup so I took a knife from the kitchen and… and I tried to cut it out of me. Mum found me bleeding on the floor and rushed me to the A&E. At that point it was either take the pup out or lose both of us so…”

He trailed off, tears running in streams down his face. He dragged in several short, stuttering breaths, his hands fisted in front of his stomach, nails digging into his palms. He spoke again when he felt a bit steadier. “After I healed from the surgeries, I was put on suppressants. I’ve been on them my whole life, until… until they were taken away.” He didn’t add that he was terrified now to have a heat because he’d been off suppressants for so long now and his body still hadn’t readjusted, and if – or more accurately, _when_ – he went into heat, he knew that birth control wasn’t 100% effective. He didn’t want to get pregnant again. He didn’t want to go into heat or mate or have pups.

Moran didn’t embrace John, and John was glad. The last thing he wanted right then was to be touched, to be told that everything was going to be okay. Because it wasn’t fucking okay. Nothing was fucking okay.

Tomorrow the doctor from Souter should be calling about John’s birth control, and he almost didn’t want to answer. Not having heats was seriously unhealthy, but was it better than the possibility of getting pregnant? John thought so.

“Why was the alarm sounded?” Moran asked, changing the topic to something John could handle.

_Detach detach detach_. One of his instructors had repeated that all the time as his greatest piece of advice. ‘ _Detach yourself from the situation. You are treating a wound, not getting emotional over the patient.’_

John recounted, in as much detail as possible, the events that interrupted his lunch.

Moran was standing before John had even finished. “Let’s get back to the mess hall, then. You’ve already broken procedure by coming here. Won’t do any harm to head back.”

Nodding, John got to his feet. “Just give me a moment to get dressed, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy shit, right? Things will get better soon, I promise.
> 
> Comments and critiques are always welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating this now since tomorrow is (sort of) a holiday and all that.
> 
> Also, as of right now, this is the last chapter that I have written for this. I'm going to try to get my butt in gear and start writing on it again, but I don't have any guarantees that there will be a new chapter next week.
> 
> Anyway, not beta read or Brit picked. Enjoy!

They had to wait three hours in the mess hall. Well, it was a bit closer to two hours, since John had wasted most of the first one taking care of Evan and then having a breakdown in the barracks. He was ashamed of himself for doing that, for being such a typical Omega. Evan’s body was still in the hall, with a blanket over him. The Alpha that brought him in was sitting guard by his body. John wondered if they had known each other.

After the three hours were up, other soldiers started slowly filtering in from outside. The mess hall was the largest building on the small base, and therefore it was the best place for a meeting for all of the soldiers. Garza explained to the gathered soldiers what had happened, because John and Lowe both knew that the word of an Omega or a Beta was not as reliable as the word of an Alpha, especially an Alpha as experienced as Garza. John didn’t mind. He didn’t want to tell the story again, let alone to such a large crowd.

After that, John zoned out for a bit. The Alpha team leaders were arguing, voices and hackles raised as they tried to fight over whose group should go out to search for an intruder or other threats to the camp. John didn’t know why they couldn’t all go out. Surely that would be faster. But he didn’t speak up, because he didn’t want attention on him.

Eventually – _finally_ – it was decided that the two largest groups should go out, one to the west and the other to the east, and comb the surrounding area. No one mentioned the possibility of snipers. John didn’t bring it up either, because Evan had died of a stab wound, not a gunshot.

Lowe nudged him, and John blinked, looking at him with raised eyebrows. “We need to head back to the barracks, get our weapons. It’s us and Major Hopkins’ team heading out.”

John nodded, following the rest of Moran’s team out of the mess hall and towards their sleeping quarters. They dressed and strapped on their firearms without much said between them. Engaging the enemy was outside of John’s area. He wasn’t technically allowed to, via the rules of the RAMC unit. However, he was part of an infantry unit, and that was pretty much what the infantry did. Not that he minded. He had not joined the army to be a medic that only saw the front lines when someone was injured.

Moran, who looked dangerous and far too serious in full camouflage, faced all of them. His stance alone was enough to command attention. “We’re going to fan out evenly in a half circle around the base. Walk roughly a quarter kilometre, and then walk back. Engage if you need to, but try to capture if at all possible. Of course, there’s no guarantee that anyone will be out there.” His tone of voice made it clear that Moran did not believe anyone was in the surrounding desert. John, however, was confident that there was someone. There had to be. “Is everyone ready?” Though the Colonel was addressing the entire group, his eyes went only to John. And John, daring as he was and looking to make up for his weakness earlier, held his gaze. If there was a prickling of Alpha in those green eyes, he ignored it.

“Let’s make this quick. I don’t want to waste the whole day.”

_Waste the day_ , John thought, wanting to roll his eyes. This was the first real thing that they had done in nearly a week. He didn’t want to admit how eager he was to do this, even if it was just because it was a reason to get away from the stagnation of video games and rugby.

Moran led them to the east, and Major Hopkins passed them with his team of ten, heading to the west. Garza and Cole took the edges of their half circle to the north and the south, Moran was on point dead east, and the rest of them filed into place, spread evenly. John was north-northeast, Pearson on his left, one of the Wallace brothers to his right. Over their radios, Moran gave them their mark, and they all started walking.

The further out they went, the more spread out they became, until John felt extremely alone. He could see Pearson and Wallace, though only in form. Pretty soon, in the crevices of the mountain roots, Wallace disappeared.

John’s skin was crawling with sweat, but, despite how much he wanted to scratch at his skin and peel off his outer shirt, he stayed steady and kept moving. He could no longer see Pearson out of the corner of his eye, but he knew that the younger soldier was there. They were in a wide channel between two sloping roots of the mountain, at nearly opposite ends from the other.

John’s eyes were scanning the ground in front of him, flicking to the mountain at his right, glancing up at the mountain in front of him. Everything was the same shade of dusty tan except for the heavy shadows that lived in crevices and behind rocks, playing tricks on his eyes.

But there was nothing out here. There was no one hiding in the shadows.

At a quarter kilometre, John stopped. He looked to the left, finding Pearson walking towards him. John was confused for a moment, but then he understood. They had spread out so much that there was a lot of middle ground that they were missing. He started moving as well, meeting up with Pearson in about the middle of their original paths.

“See anything?” Pearson asked, voiced hushed. Still, John imagined that he could hear the breath bouncing off of the mountains around them.

John shook his head. He gestured back towards the base, his eyebrows raised in question. _Shall we?_

Pearson nodded, and together they began the walk back, guns still at the ready, eyes still scanning the ground around them. They were almost out of the channel, almost back to where Wallace would meet up with them again, when John froze. Pearson stopped beside him, tense, raising his rifle to a better position against his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, though John knew that he had to be wondering why John had stopped.

John couldn’t believe Pearson didn’t smell it. His nose wrinkled as the scent was carried on the breeze that had suddenly lifted, swirling around them in the channel. John couldn’t tell where the origin was, couldn’t tell where the threat was coming from. He just hoped to hell that the Alpha he was scenting hadn’t picked up on them yet. His hand moved over to grasp at Pearson’s sleeve, ready to pull him out of harm’s way, just in case they had been found. His senses were so strained that he heard the metal shifting of a rifle before the trigger was pulled, and he grabbed Pearson, jerking him down and dragging him over behind a rock just as a spray of bullets rained down on them.

“Call for backup,” John ordered, covering Pearson to further shield the younger Alpha. The bullets stopped, and John put his hand over the radio, silently telling Pearson to wait. He could hear footsteps, or at least he thought that he could. There was a click, and John recognised it as a magazine being loaded. As soon as the bullets started firing again, John let go of the radio and urged Pearson to make the call.

“Little Omega!” John tensed at the unfamiliar voice, which was coming from a different direction than the bullets. It was also a lot closer than John was really comfortable with. He double-checked that the safety on his gun was off. “Why don’t you come out and play? I can smell you, little Omega.”

John, thankfully, could not smell the enemy, but he didn’t need smell to be able to know it was an Alpha male. Below him – since John was still shielding him with his body – Pearson was quickly talking over the radio, but John couldn’t hear what he was saying, or what was being said back. He was too strung out, trying to pinpoint where the Alpha was.

Pearson turned suddenly, pressing his lips close to John’s ear. “Moran ordered us to stay put. They’re on their way over, but they need to take out the gunman first.”

The bullets stopped again, and John had to wonder how much ammunition these guys were willing to waste on them. There were the footsteps again, too close for comfort, and John shook his head. “Staying may not be an option,” he whispered in Pearson’s ear, and then immediately started scanning for another hiding place.

When he felt that he could pin down a location on the Alpha approaching them, he fired blindly in that direction, two shots, and then pulled his arm back and waited for the rain of bullets to start again.

Instead, the strange Alpha laughed, and the sound grated at John’s ears. “Oh, the little Omega has teeth.”

John frowned, looking down at Pearson, who had a similar expression on his face. Why was the Alpha only interested in John? They knew that Pearson was there, and a young Alpha who no doubt had a very rich family should have been the obvious target. It was definitely the choice with the biggest payoff. And yet they were calling out John.

“What was the ETA on Moran and the team?” he asked, voice even softer now that the bullets weren’t there to mask the sound.

Pearson checked his watch and then held up five fingers. Alright, fine, five minutes was manageable.

“What do I get if I come out?” John called, making his voice sound weak. He gave Pearson a hard look and a silent snarl, warning him to stay quiet. John could handle this just fine.

There was that laugh again, and that smell from earlier, gunpowder, oil, and Alpha.

Too close.

John fired over the rock again, another warning. _Stay the fuck back._

“I don’t think you actually want to come out, little Omega.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just scared.” His voice trembled, and he could feel how much Pearson wanted to respond with pheromones, but John shook his head. Thankfully, the young Alpha restrained himself.

“It’s alright, little Omega. Come on out.”

“H-how do I know you’re not going to shoot me?”

“I promise I won’t harm you, little Omega. You’re much more valuable to me unharmed.”

_Valuable?_ John’s eyes met Pearson’s. The young Alpha held up three fingers. Three more minutes.

John closed his eyes, gathering himself. “Alright,” he called, and he held his hands up, his pistol visible, his finger clearly off the trigger. Slowly, he rose up, his head peaking over the rock. The Alpha was ten metres away, standing placidly, a relaxed smile on his face.

Still acting, John returned a hesitant smile and avoided eye contact, his eyes cast downward in a show of submission. He set his gun down on top of the rock and then stood, stepping around and walking toward the Alpha.

“That’s a good little Omega.” A hand reached out, and while the last thing John wanted was to be touched by this Alpha, he let it happen. Right now was not about what he wanted, but was instead about holding off for three more fucking minutes so that Moran could show up and get them out of this situation. Fingertips brushed John’s cheek, and then a palm was laid gentle over it. The Alpha’s wrist, a very concentrated spot for scent, was right next to John’s nose. “I won’t hurt you. You’re far too valuable for that.”

There was that word again, confusing John and making him furrow his brow. What the fuck was so valuable about an Omega? All his life he’d been told, over and over, that Omegas were only good for raising pups and – oh. Oh, god.

There were parts of the world where Omegas were difficult to come by, where selective breeding had all but eliminated that gender. He’d heard stories of sex trafficking, been told not to ever wander the streets alone, to never talk to strangers, to never trust an Alpha.

This Alpha was more interested in John because he was in the only business where Omegas were more valuable than young Alphas like Pearson.

John fought hard to repress the disgust and fear that rose inside of him like bile.

“How old are you?” the Alpha asked, taking a hold of John’s wrist and starting to lead him away.

“Twenty-three,” John responded, keeping his head down and walking slowly, not quite dragging his feet but certainly not trying to keep pace with the Alpha.

“Well you’re not too old then. Of course, you won’t bring as much as the younger ones, but I could still get a –” The Alpha was cut off by a shot from a rifle. It was a long-range rifle, and the sound bounced around, making it hard to pinpoint exactly where it had come from, but John knew who it was.

John was grabbed and pulled against the Alpha’s front as if that would stop a bullet. John, however, was a head shorter than the Alpha, and knew he couldn’t do much. A body shot would be easier, and Moran was going to have to be a damned good shot to be able to shoot the Alpha in the head.

Another shot boomed through the channel at the mountain’s base, and milliseconds later the Alpha jerked and dropped to the ground. John felt blood on him, dripping down the back of his neck, running down his spine under his shirt. For the second time that day, he wanted to rip of his outer layers, except this time it was out of disgust and not discomfort.

He turned, looking down at the dead Alpha. Moran wasn’t just a damned good shot; he was the best sniper that the British Army had ever seen.

“It’s clear, Pearson,” John called, walking back over to the rock so that he could grab his gun. As Pearson was getting to his feet, the rest of the team filtered in from hiding spots higher up on the mountain. Holt was the first to John, checking him in a way that reminded John of the way Harry would have looked him over. “I’m fine,” John said, swatting Holt away.

“You sure?”

John nodded, putting his gun in its sheath. “Yeah. Just need a shower.”

“Well Moran told us all to head out. He’s going to get this mess transferred over to Hopkins and then he and Cole will be following after.”

Cole was the spotter for Moran. He was the one who sat with him and told Moran the range to the target and the wind speed and everything else that could affect the shot. They had to transfer the bodies over to Hopkins so that there wouldn’t be bias dealing with the mess. Or something like that.

So John walked back to the base with the other Alphas and the Betas, who, subconsciously or not, formed a tight group around him. Pearson wouldn’t shut up recounting the story, but John didn’t stop him. That was the first real situation that either of them had been in. Well, if John didn’t count trying to treat Evan as a real experience.

Once they were back at the barracks, everyone undressed and filtered in for a well-earned shower. John scrubbed the back of his neck maybe a bit too hard in an effort to get all of the blood off. He was the last one out of the showers, taking until the water ran cold before he finally felt even a semblance of clean.

He dressed in what the rest of the soldiers called relaxed wear – solid coloured trousers, trainers, and a t-shirt that wasn’t the colour of the dry desert around them. He’d only just finished doing up his trousers when Moran shoved into the room. John froze immediately, scenting the rage on him. He didn’t even look up, because he knew that Moran was angry at him, and John was not about to do something that would just piss him off more.

“Out,” Moran growled. “Everyone out.”

John heard the scuffles of the other Alphas and Betas leaving, but he didn’t look up until the door had firmly closed and silence had stretched in the room for a full two seconds. Oh yeah, Moran was furious. John watched the Alpha – because there was no man in there right now – methodically strip out of his gear and drop them to the side. Their eyes met for a moment, and the Alpha growled.

_Shite_. Now he had done it.

Moran advanced and John backed up as quickly as he could, but he only managed to hit a wall. Sliding along it – the only thing in John’s head was to get away from the angry Alpha – ended up with him trapped in a corner. John whined, his head ducked submissively, his hands loose at his sides.

Moran took the last step, and John was suddenly caged in, the small corner flooded with the Alpha’s fury and John’s attempt at exuding a calmer, softer scent. He knew how to pick his battles, and this was not one that he was willing to fight. He was waiting for Moran to yell at him, or for a physical blow, but instead the Alpha’s head lowered, and he nuzzled at John’s throat. His growling deepened, and he stepped closer, nearly pressing against John. “His scent is still on you.” The words were low and possessive, and John’s fear of Moran ripping his throat out melted away.

The Alpha’s cheek rubbed against John’s, scenting him. John tilted his head, granting Moran access, and the Alpha pushed forward, rubbing cheek and jaw and neck over John’s exposed skin, covering him with the Alpha’s scent. The Omega was perfectly content with this, and in fact felt remarkably safe caged between the Alpha and the corner. The enclosed space paired with the heavy scent of Alpha was reminiscent of a den, and John found himself relaxing and, eventually, purring.

The Alpha made his own noise, something deeper and originating lower in his chest, and John felt lips press to a spot under his jaw. The Omega responded, turning to nip at the Alpha’s jaw and then lick submissively over the same spot, nosing the soft skin just under the ear. There was hot breath on John’s neck, and fuck he hadn’t realised how hard he was, erection pressing against his trousers. The Omega made a small sound, body arching forward in search of contact with the Alpha, John’s Alpha _need an Alpha need this Alpha need need need_.

Teeth pressed against the side of John’s neck, and the Omega snarled, previously lax hands coming up to shove the Alpha away, but Moran was too fast and he grabbed John’s wrists and pinned them. A hard body pressed against John, turning so that they were pressed tight to only one of the walls instead of the corner. John tried to move, to yank his hands away with a nasty snarl, but the Alpha was so much stronger than him. _Worthy Alpha._

Moran bared his teeth. “Mine,” he growled, thigh pressing between John’s legs.

John cried out, back arching from the wall as he shamelessly rocked his hips against Moran’s thigh. There was something wrong with this situation, and it was nagging at John’s mind, but the Omega was covering that up, pushing more needy mewls from his mouth.

“You are _my_ Omega,” the Alpha declared, teeth going to John’s neck again, and his body tensed as John squirmed, the Omega putting up a fight to test the strength of the Alpha, making sure that he could handle them during a heat, making sure that he could sire strong, healthy pups.

_Pups_. John’s mind snagged on that, and in an instant, he had shoved the Omega down.

“Moran,” he said, voice sharp, all traces of Omega gone. He felt the Alpha go still against him, and John felt brave enough to pull his hands free and shove Sebastian back to at least arm’s length.

There was an obvious war going on between Moran and the Alpha, and for a moment John was fearful that the Alpha was going to win. He let out a deep sigh of relief when he looked up and those green eyes were all man.

“Sorry,” Moran had the decency to grumble. He rubbed the back of his neck, giving John an embarrassed look. “That’s especially less okay after our conversation this morning.”

“It’s fine,” John said instantly, placating. “Could have been bad, but it wasn’t. We’re both at the mercy of our biology.” Despite his reassuring words, he slid to the floor, weak knees making him need to sit down.

“John –”

“Don’t,” John cut in, raising his eyes to give a forced smile to Moran. “It’s not your fault. I just… can’t.”

“I know.”


End file.
